A More Profound Bond: A Supernatural Destiel Story
by DoubleDutch23
Summary: Dean & Castiel share a deep connection & a deep need for each other that nothing can break. M/M romcom based around Season 8 and 9. Contains cursing/rough language, M/M kissing, heavy M/M petting, M/M oral sex, some accidental voyeurism, and various M/M sexual content. And of course I don't own Supernatural or its characters.
1. Chapter 1: An Angelic Explosion

**Reader,**

 **Thanks for reading this! I have only watched halfway through Season 8 of Supernatural, and that is where my characters are, roughly. There is drinking, cursing/rough language, kissing between two consenting male adults, and sexual content between two consenting male adults, though there is no detail given. BTW, 'alulas' are a part of a bird's wing; please let me know if I can use that info better. I'm sure there are lots of improvements I can make. This one only has Castiel and Dean Winchester in it, though Sam Winchester is mentioned. And as usual, I don't own Supernatural, or any affiliated characters. Rated T, best I can figure. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **An Angelic Explosion**

Dean sits on the sofa in an extended stay hotel room, drinking beer and watching his favorite re-runs. Again.

'Dean.' Castiel stands in front of Dean, so he can't see the television set. Dean rolls his eyes, takes a slug of his beer, and belches.

'Yeah, Cas?'

'Your behavior the last several months has been…. How do you humans say it?' Castiel quirks a brief smile. 'Surly. Your behavior the last several months has been rather surlier than usual.' Castiel nods to himself, satisfied that he has correctly used human verbiage again. Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation.

'So what Cas?' Dean tips the beer up for another swig, and cursing when he finds it empty. 'Dammit!' He hurls the empty bottle in the general direction of the trash can in the nearby mini kitchen. He grins when he hears the bottle clank against others in the can, and smirks up at Castiel.

'Make yourself useful, Cas, and get that perky ass over to the fridge and get me another beer.' Dean puts a hand on Cas's hip and shoves sideways; Cas steps sideways.

'Besides that, you make a better door than you do a window.' Cas shakes his head at this reference as he heads towards the fridge.

'Since I am obviously neither a door nor a window, Dean, I must assume there is another meaning to your words.' Dean sighs heavily, becoming engrossed in his re-runs again. 'And it has not escaped my notice that you complimented this body's posterior. This comment would seem out of place with your generally surly attitude lately.' Cas retrieves a couple of beer bottles from the fridge, pops the cap on one and hands it to Dean as he sets the other one on the end table.

'Give it a rest already.' Dean growls, pointing his beer around Cas and towards the television. 'I'm right in the middle of a show here.' Dean tips the bottle back and drains it in several gulps. He tosses the bottle accurately in the quickly filling trash can and slouches down on the sofa as he uncaps the other beer. His knee slides between Cas's legs, and he swings it between Cas's knees, punctuating each slurred word.

'Shove. Off. Cas, I'm. Tryina'. Get. Drunk.' Dean takes a long chug, lowers the bottle, and belches up at Cas; Cas's face is unmoved.

'Dean, how much longer do you intend to deceive yourself about your feelings?' Cas whispers quietly, knowing Dean will fight tooth and nail before he admits to anything like a weakness or a feeling. Dean chokes on his beer, sets it on the end table, and surges to his feet, not even inches separating him from Cas.

'Lie to myself about what feelings, Cas?' Dean's gaze is challenging and angry, but his gaze dips briefly down to Cas's mouth for just an instant, and for that instant his face softens. Then anger takes hold again, and he snarls at Cas.

'You bein' in love with me ain't no concern a mine, Castiel. If I wanna lie to myself until the cows come home, that ain't no concern of a junkless, brainless wonder like you,' Dean growls, gripping Castiel by the shirt. Castiel allows himself to be flung back towards the sofa, but before he even hits the cushion, he blinks himself back behind Dean. Dean becomes deadly still, hands relaxed deceptively at his sides, his gaze hard and angry over his shoulder. Cas doesn't lay an hand on him, but neither does he move back.

'Lay off, Cas, I'm warnin' ya'. You're pushin' buttons you ain't got no idea about.' Dean's voice is an angry growl, barely discernable as speech.

'Why are you fighting, Dean?' Cas's voice is barely a whisper, and he almost seems to be speaking to himself.

Dean explodes in front of Cas, whipping around and screaming in his face.

'What the mother fuck do you mean 'why am I fighting?! Are you nuts, Cas, or just really really dense for a fucking angel?! I thought angels were supposed to be so much better than us, but that ain't what I've seen from you, Cas. You're fuckin' useless, you know that?'

Cas allows Dean to shove him backwards towards the opposite wall of the living room, each sentence punctuated with a shove, which Cas obliges with a silent step backwards.

'You fuckin' lied to me, Cas! You lied to me and you left me! You left me, Cas! What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?' Cas steps back against the far wall of the living room, silent. Dean bunches up Cas's shirt in his fists and tries to lift Cas – Cas just raises up on his toes.

'You…' Dean uses a fist full of bunched up shirt to punch Cas's chest with each word. 'Lied. To. Me.' Dean meets Cas's gaze, his eyes angry and too hurt for words, the words don't say it well enough.

'Words fail to express the depth of human emotion. I've always thought the whales were so much better at expressing emotion.' Cas observes, breaking Dean's gaze and looking instead at the right shoulder where he knows his mark has burned Dean's skin in the shape of a handprint. Dean's eyes widen in anger.

'Whales, Cas?! Whales?! I'm about to rip you a literal new one, and you talk about whales?!' Cas smells the Angel Blade before Dean can pull it from the sheathe in the small of his back. Quicker than thought, Cas switches places with Dean, pinning Dean to the wall with his entire body. The Angel Blade tumbles harmlessly to the carpet, rolling a bit away. Before Dean can think to lift his arms in self-defense, Cas pins Dean's arms to his sides, his hands on either side of Dean. Cas places his feet just on the outside of Dean's, leaning into Dean so that their bodies are flush with each other from thigh to chest. There's barely enough room for Dean to breathe. Cas has put his face in the crook of Dean's neck, inhaling deeply; Dean smells very good.

'Cas…' Dean's voice is dangerously low, and Dean is dangerously still. 'Cas, let me up now or so help me I will curse you out of that body for the next decade.' Cas remains unmoved, and Dean tries to kick and jerk unsuccessfully. 'Dammit Cas…' Dean's voice grows louder with each word until he is shouting. 'Let. Me. The. Fuck. Up!' Dean roars in Cas's ear, but Cas remains unmoved against him. Cas has closed his eyes, and when he opens them, his gaze is unusually focused and intense. He leans back a bit and looks into Dean's eyes.

'Do not mistake my good nature for weakness, Dean.' Cas wings spread as much as they can in the relative confines of the hotel room, the tips of his wings wiping things off the counters in the mini kitchen in the back of the room, brushing the window curtains at the front of the room. He allows a small amount of his true form to manifest in the space they occupy. It can be so difficult to limit his form to this frail human skin, when his true form is something closer to the size of a 70+ story skyscraper. Cas's eyes begin to glow and the carpet begins to smolder under his feet. As a small amount of his power leeks back to him, some of the gravity of his true form concentrates in the small area of his presence. Plaster begins to crumble and cave in around his hands, and the cement foundation under his feet cracks loudly. Dean gulps audibly, his eyes now tightly closed against the light aura. Cas closes his eyes again, and lets the power bleed back into the place it came from. Dean recovers himself quickly, undeterred.

'Good nature?!' Dean shouts incredulously in Cas's face. 'Good nature? You killed most of heaven and a good bit of earth, Cas, what the fuck is your good nature?!' Dean shakes his head, growling. He closes his eyes, and Cas can feel him gathering his energy, knows he will soon begin a chant to forcibly remove him from his host body. Cas should probably feel irritated, but for some reason he can't summon the feeling. All he can think is that he appreciates Dean's stubborn nature, even if it drives him crazy sometimes. He leans forward again and sniffs the crook of Dean's neck. Dean begins chanting under his breath, oblivious to Cas's antics; he's used to Cas doing weird stuff.

'Enough, Dean.' Cas puts his lips on Dean's and kisses. Why did he decide to kiss Dean, instead of do something else? Why did it matter? All Cas could feel is the length of Dean's hard body pressed against his own, his lips against Dean's, the beer taste of Dean's mouth. It felt so good to be this close to Dean, like waiting so long for something you want really badly, but aren't really aware that you want until it happens, then you realize how badly you wanted it.

Dean is shocked into silence, then quickly begins returning Cas's kiss with his own passion; Cas's eyes widen in surprise. The endless parade of women through their hotel room did not prepare him for the possibility that Dean might kiss him back if he ever did this. Cas had fully expected a solid right hook. It never occurred to him Dean might kiss him back. Dean was kissing him back!

Reluctantly, Cas pulls away, looking into Dean's eyes. Dean's eyes are confused – lust, hurt, loss, betrayal - painful to look into, but Cas looks anyway. After all, he put most of that hurt and pain and confusion there with his arrogance. It was far too late before he realized that God was indeed trying to tell him to stop trying to be a god – how could he have mistaken the opposition of a True Servant of God like Dean for anything but God's own will expressed in his life? And why in the Heavens had it taken him so long to figure that out?

'I'm sorry, Dean.' Cas's eyes are clear and regretful. Dean's eyes begin to mist over, and he closes them for a moment as he shakes his head.

'Sorry ain't gonna' cut it this time, Cas.' Dean opens his eyes, looking sorrowfully into Cas's blue eyes. 'You lied to me.' Dean whispers painfully. 'You. Left. Me.'

Dean's voice is audible only to the angel standing next to him. Cas is cut to the quick by the raw emotion in Dean's voice. It is then that he realizes he will follow Dean even into the pits of hell and beyond. Always. Dean's soul is his heaven, he realizes with a shock. What does that mean for an angel? Did it really matter?

'I'm sorry, Dean.'

Dean shakes his head again.

'You can't say sorry for this, Cas. You can't take yourself away like that again.' Dean growls his frustration. 'Dammit Cas! Don't you get it? I've got so many people to protect, and I can't do it without you, okay?' Dean's next words are spoken so softly, the angel wonders if he heard words spoken by the heart and not the mouth. 'I need you.' Cas's heart breaks for a moment, and Dean misses the single tear that finds its way down Cas's cheek.

'I'm here, Dean. I'm here now.'

Dean heaves a sigh – as large as he can manage while squashed between an angel and a hotel room wall – there's a thought, he thinks wryly. He smirks sardonically up at Cas.

'Well, this is cozy and all, Cas, but do you really want Sam to find us like this?' Truth be told, Dean liked this arrangement on a very deep level, and found that disturbing. There had not been a whole lot of safe moments in his life, but any time he stood close to Cas, he felt that little flicker of safety that felt suspiciously like home. It shook him to the core to think that it could be taken away from him.

'Sam was told that he needed to go to a place of higher education and research our upcoming 'job' as you both refer to these cases.' Cas quirked a smile at Dean, and Dean felt his pulse jump. Damn that stupid fucking junkless angel. 'Besides which I happen to know that you are not unappreciative of your current predicament.' Cas raised an eyebrow suggestively. Dean's very human regions were showing great interest in what was happening. Strangely, Cas found his very gratifying, and it stoked the feeling building inside him.

'Yeah, you're a real Romeo there Cas, talkin' me to death. Why use one word when seven will do?' Dean quipps, looking away over Cas's shoulder. There wasn't much to see, though, as Cas's wings were still spread over most of the hotel room. For the first time Cas returned from Purgatory, Dean really looked at Cas's wings.

'Cas, what the hell, how long have your alula's been broken? And you look like you're molting? Should you be molting?' Dean's hand strokes Cas's side under his shirt, and Cas lowers one arm and started to shift away. 'Nonono, Cas, don't go away, I just never realized your wings were so damaged.'

Dean lifts his right hand from beneath Cas's shirt and gently strokes his damaged wing, careful to avoid the broken alula. Cas closes his eyes and sighs in deep contentment, an absent smile on his face. Dean smirks.

'You like it when I touch your wings, Cas?' Dean asked, almost shyly.

Cas nodds absently again, his face growing flushed. When he opens his eyes, they are heavy lidded and drowsy. If Dean didn't know better, it almost looked like Cas was…. well, like Cas was getting turned on. Dean dismisses that thought with a snort. Angels didn't have junk, and angels didn't get turned on. Especially not by something as mundane as having their wings petted. Cas's eyes are heavy and seductive, a look Dean had never seen on Cas before, even when he kissed that fool demon Meg in the hallway. An unfamiliar stirring of jealousy burns through Dean, and he stomps it down quickly. Cas probably had a boring, logical reason for playing tonsil hockey with Meg, and it would probably make him laugh when he heard it. Cas leans forward and nuzzles the side of Dean's neck again. Frissons of excitement speed up and down Dean's spine.

'Wow, Cas. I don't think I've ever seen you like…. this.' Dean stammers. Cas almost acts like he wants to…. Dean shakes his head, refusing to finish that thought. All he was doing was stroking Cas's wing, and not even in a very sensual way at that. Dean had to admit the feathers were a beautiful shimmering midnight blue – in places darkening to black. 'Your wings are beautiful, Cas.'

'Thank you, Dean. That means a lot to me.' Cas nearly glowed, his eyes filled with a sensuality Dean was not used to seeing there.

'Cas, I thought angels weren't supposed to be… sexy.' Dean observes carefully. 'Why do you look… sexy… now?'

'Apparently my wings are very sensitive, Dean.'

'Really, Cas? Sensitive? Is this a…. a…. sex thing, Cas?'

'There is no human concept for what this is, Dean.' Cas rattles off a short phrase in Enochian. 'There is no human equivalent.'

'Right. Well, that clears things up.' Dean remarks sarcastically. Of course, Cas completely misses the point.

'I'm glad it does, Dean. I was worried you would not understand.'

'How can you live billions of years and not know how…. sensitive… your wings are?' Dean's voice is skeptical. 'You're literally older than man, Cas, how can you be alive so long and not know that?'

Cas tilts his head, fighting to consider Dean's point through the growing haze. All he can think about is the feel of Dean's hand on his wing, stroking and stroking. Dean's calloused palms against his smooth feathers; the contrast was very…. pleasurable. Dean, what had Dean said?

'I do not know, Dean. There are whole sections of human history that I cannot recall.'

'What, like you were on vacation at the time it happened I guess?' Dean offers, still gently stroking the angel's wing. Cas moans quietly into the crook of Dean's neck.

'Angels don't go 'on vacation', Dean.'

Cas's face is mildly worried, but worry doesn't stay in his mind for long; Dean – Dean! Dean was stroking his wing and adoring his wings, and Dean was so close, standing so close, Cas felt like the entire world smelled of aftershave and sweat and motor oil because Dean had changed the oil on the Impala earlier. Cas moaned again; Dean smelled so good! And his soul was quiet and content, Cas could feel it. Dean felt safe now, being close to him. Dean! Felt safe – with him! Dean's soul fairly hummed with a quiet contentment.

'Well, maybe you lost 'em when you found your way out of Purgatory. I mean, look at the hash it made of your wings, Cas.' Dean continues to stroke Cas's wing, watching his face. Cas was nuzzling in the crook of his neck, and it was very distracting and arousing. How can this not be a sex thing?

'How do you know about wings, Dean?' Cas's voice is soft as he struggles to focus around the feeling building inside him. It feels so good to have Dean touch him this way, feels so right. And the fact that Dean made the effort to learn about him – Dean wanted to know more about him!

'I learned right after I met you Cas, of course. We all did; we all sat around Bobby's place one weekend crammin' our noggins full of information about wings and lore about angels.'

'I am very flattered, Dean. Thank you.' Cas's face is flushed, his eyes heavy lidded as he leans back and gazes as Dean. There is so much unfamiliar feeling in Cas's gaze that Dean actually squirms a little under his stare.

'Wow, Cas, you're… uh… you're really…' Dean clears his throat. 'Are you okay?'

'Do you wish to stop now, Dean? Are you uncomfortable?' Cas's voice is low and breathy; please don't let Dean stop, please I can't handle it if Dean stops. Dean looks around and laughs uncomfortably.

'What, am I some kind of virgin now, Cas? Really? Christ, I haven't been a virgin in….. a really, really long time.' Dean chuckles again uncomfortably, but continues to gently stroke Cas's wing, not unlike petting a dog. Cas's face begins to glow, and his breathing becomes a series of erotic gasps. The feeling was building to a sort of peak of intensity, and if he let it loose here, people would die.

'Dean, we have to go.' Dean hesitates a moment, taken aback by Cas's sudden urgency. If they were having sex, he'd think Cas was about to….. Dean shakes his head again, dismissing the thought. Angels don't have sex, and Cas said it wasn't a sex thing.

Before Dean can blink, they are in an open meadow area, in an uninhabited forestland.

'Where the fuck are we, Cas?'

'Mongolian. Steppes.' Cas's breath comes in gasps, and Dean swears for all the world it sounds like he's about to…. Dean closes his eyes; why does he keep thinking that?

'Why, Cas?'

'Why. What?' Cas gasps. 'Dean!' Dean's name comes out as an unmistakably erotic moan; Cas mumbles in Enochian.

'Cas, why the fuck are we in the Mongolian Steppes, and not in the friggin' hotel room?'

'Patience, Dean.' Cas closes his eyes and tilts his head back, moaning again. He grips Dean and pulls him closer, his wings folding around them. 'Don't stop, Dean. Please.' Whatever this feeling was, Cas needed to follow it, find out where it went. What was happening? Why had he never felt this way before? Would Dean be okay? Dean, he needed Dean so much, if Dean ever knew how badly he needed him, what would he do? Why did he need Dean so much?

'Okay Cas. It's okay, I'm here.' Dean closes his eyes, unwittingly responding to Cas's unspoken question, and continues to gently caress Cas's wing. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was like they were having sex and Cas was about to….

'Well, fuck me, Cas, you old dog.' Dean laughs quietly. It was a sex thing after all, he was right.

It isn't sex, Cas thinks, it's deeper than that. Whatever this feeling is, it has been filling him up, pushing like a tidal wave inside him, building and growing and demanding a release. Dean's gentle laughter pushes Cas over the edge, and he lets out a primal yell in Enochian as a wave of power pulses out from him, and for a part of a second, he assumes his true form - over 1,000 feet of him, four faces, blinding glorious light, midnight black wings, full battle armor – all of it. For one split part of a second, he feels free and accepted and loved for who he is.

Dean closes his eyes, pushes his head into Cas's shoulder, and holds on for the ride. Whatever it is only lasts a second, at most. For that one second, it feels like he has a hold of the Chrysler Building, if the Chrysler Building were a massive living being, and if that being was as hot as the sun, and if the sun were located in the Challenger Deep, and if the Challenger Deep were hot instead of cold. He wouldn't be surprised if he had the world's worst sunburn after this.

He wants to open his eyes and look, to see Cas's true form, but all those memories of melted eye sockets make sure his eyes stay tightly closed. He thinks maybe if he didn't have a hold of Cas's wing, he would be crushed under the weight all around him, burned alive by the heat and holiness surrounding him. Then it's gone. He feels Cas's chuckle rumble deep in his chest and raises his head up, eyes still tightly closed.

'You can open your eyes now, Dean.' Dean opens his eyes and looks around. The steppe grass and rolling hills are compressed, flattened, and burned for nearly a mile in every direction.

'Holy Hell, Cas! Did you do that?'

'Yes, Dean. I manifested my true form for only a millisecond or so. I'm actually very impressed that you survived it. I was afraid I would have to commit suicide after this.' Cas notes that Dean's face looks sunburned, but other than that, he does not seem to have suffered any ill effects.

'Suicide my ass, Cas, you are not allowed to commit suicide!' Dean looks around at the devastated landscape. 'Fuck me, Cas, that is some serious damage.'

'This is why we are all 'junkless' as you say.'

'No shit, Sherlock.' Dean replies, surveying the damage and shaking his head. 'Oh, and that officially qualifies as 'sex', Cas, by the way; just for your clarification.'

'As a fictional character, I do not believe Sherlock Holmes would have shat, Dean.' Cas considers Dean's point about sex. 'I do not think I have experienced that before, Dean. But there are so many gaps in my memory, it is hard to tell.' Dean smiles, like the cat that got the canary.

'So I popped your cherry, eh, Cas?'

'Dean, I fail to see what tree fruit has to do with the experience we shared.' Cas is utterly confused again. There is so much to learn from Dean!

'Yeah, missin' the point as usual, Cas.' Dean laughs to himself; yep, Cas is himself again. Another frisson of excitement runs up and down his spine again, remembering the look of desire in Cas's eyes.

'I seem to miss a lot of things.'

'You'll pick up on it sooner or later.' Dean remembers how old Castiel is. 'Or maybe not; I'm sure you would have before now.'

'No one has bothered to try and teach me, Dean.' Cas's face is folded in confusion. 'At least, I don't think they have.' He grabs Dean by the waist, and in a blink they are back in the hotel room.

'Dean, why has no one bothered to try and teach me until now? I have lived billions of years and watched the rise and fall of many civilizations. Surely I would not forget someone who taught me about being human?' Cas's face is still folded in confusion.

'I don't know, Cas.' Dean sighs and retrieves a beer from the fridge. He finds himself wishing he smoked, and chuckles to himself. 'Are you sure it's not just damage from escaping Purgatory?'

'Dean, that is exactly the problem. I am a fallen angel. I should not have been able to leave Purgatory.' Cas whispers, and for a moment his face clears. Dean sits on the sofa and nearly drops his beer at Cas's calm statement.

'The fuck, Cas, really? You couldn't have come out with that earlier? Like, while we were in Purgatory?!'

'Would you have believed me, Dean?'

Dean considers this and shrugs.

'You have a point there. No, I probably would not have believed you.'

Cas steps over to the sofa and sits down.

'It would have taken another angel at least as powerful as me to pull me out. But why would I not remember that, Dean?'

Dean glances uneasily over at Cas.

'Cas, the only answers I can come up with are ugly.'

In a blink, Cas is gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Remembering

**Remembering**

 **Okay, I did not intend for this to be a loosely connected series, but actually a set of individual and unrelated scenes. I actually have no idea how many chapters this will end up being. For that, you have my apologies. I hope you can help me patch things up. As usual, this is probably rated a T, there is consensual kissing and possible heavy petting between two consenting adult males, and we also see a little bit of Sam this time.**

Dean sits in the small kitchen area of yet another extended stay hotel room, drinking coffee and thinking about pie. Sam sits on the sofa, surfing the internet and researching their next case. Dean stands up and goes to the counter to put the last slice of pie out of its lonely misery. In a blink Cas appears, sandwiching himself between Dean and the counter. Dean shakes his head.

'Figures you'd be the only angel stupid enough to get between a man and his pie, Cas.'

Sam snorts at this and looks up briefly from his laptop.

'No, Dean, he just knows how to get your attention.' Dean shakes his head but doesn't move away from Cas. It's not like he likes standing next to Cas or anything.

'So what's up, Cas? Cat got your tongue?' Dean shoves his hands in his pockets so he won't be tempted to stroke the angel's wings again. Not in front of Sam, anyway.

'Dean, why would I allow a cat to have my tongue?' Cas looks even more confused than ever. Sam snorts again from the sofa.

'It's just his way of asking what's bothering you, Cas.' Cas nods at this, and looks Dean up and down.

'For some reason, I feel closer to you, Dean.'

'Well, you did squeeze yourself between me and pie, Cas.' Dean remarks laconically, glancing over at said pie, lonely on the counter. What did Cas mean, 'for some reason'? How could he forget? It was only a few weeks ago.

'Dean, why do I have a strong desire to… let you….. stroke my wings?' Cas asks, his face a question mark. Dean's eyebrows crawl up into his hairline. It was official – Cas didn't remember. That was weird. Sam sucks in a breath and grabs his laptop, rising from the sofa.

'Hey, if you guys are doin' the Watusi again, at least give me a chance to get the Hell outta' Dodge first!' Dean puts his hand out towards Sam in a stop gesture.

'Don't worry, Sam, nothin's gonna' happen right now.'

Cas looks over at Sam, new concern on his face.

'Sam, you do remember that we are in Omaha, Nebraska, and not Dodge City, Kansas?'

Sam chuckles and sits back down.

'Yeah, Cas. It's a figure of speech. It means by all that's holy please let me leave before you guys do the angel sex thing again.' Cas freezes.

'Angel sex thing? Again?' He turns to Dean, alarmed questions on his face. 'Dean, what happened? Why can I not remember something like that? I don't think that is something I would forget. ' Dean shakes his head again.

'Yeah, we talked about that, too. Your memory gaps, and how you didn't think it was just damage from getting' out of Purgatory, because as a fallen angel you shouldna' been able to get out at all.' Cas's face drains of color.

'I was sent to Purgatory? Dean, what did I do?' Cas's voice is a strained whisper. Dean puts his hand out and rubs Cas's shoulder. Cas needed a little reassuring, it's not like he enjoyed touching Cas or anything.

'You didn't do anything, Cas. You helped us put that asshole Leviathan Dick Roman back in Purgatory. When he went, he sorta' sucked us in with him by accident.'

Cas's face falls. He remembers now… having all those souls inside him, the Leviathans ripping him apart from the inside. Dean's face when he went through the Gateway without Cas – bereft.

'I remember being a foolish little god, Dean. I remember the burden I placed on you by doing that, how badly I hurt you when I betrayed you.' Cas looks at Dean earnestly, his face an open wound of regret. Dean's face was carefully calm. Cas's betrayal hurt more deeply than he cared to think about.

'It hurts to betray you, Dean. It hurts worse than an Angel Blade every time I manage to remember it.' Cas looks down, a single tear making its way down his cheek. Dean gasps, surprised.

'Well it serves you right, Cas. You shoulda listened to me in the first place.' Dean mumbles gruffly. He gently reaches up and wipes the tear away. Cas leans into his hand for just a moment, then Dean comes back to himself and clears his throat. Sam has looked up from his laptop again, watching them.

'Um, if you guys are gonna' have a moment, I really, manifestly, do not want to be here for it.' Sam looks down and starts to gather his laptop. 'I mean, I'm all into threesomes, just not the ones involving my brother. ' He gags a little comically as he stands up.

'Simmer down, Sam. The fact that Cas can't remember that delightful bit of history really freaks me out.' Dean looks down, reluctant. 'I really don't wanna' talk about it, though.'

'Is it something you are ashamed of, Dean?' Cas's face drains of color again. 'Dean! Did I… violate you in any way?' Dean laughs at this and shakes his head.

'Cas, you idjit. No, you did not violate me.'

Sam shakes his head from the sofa.

'Still not comfortable with this conversation,' he sings sotto voce. Dean glances over.

'Sam, shut up.'

Dean looks back at Cas, his face straight and sincere.

'I don't think you are capable of violating me, Cas. And if you tried to, well, let's just say I know how to use an Angel Blade.' Dean flashes a grim grin at Cas; Cas seems mollified by this and nods. Dean leans into Cas, and for a brief second, Cas thinks Dean is about to kiss him, then shakes his head at that thought. Why would Dean kiss him? Dean sees Cas shake his head.

'What is it now, Cas?' Dean asks, opening the cabinet next to Cas's head and getting a small plate out. He was going to rescue that pie; it wouldn't have to be lonely anymore. He flashes a grin over at Cas. It would be easier if he moved away from Cas, but dammit, he wasn't gonna' move for anyone. Cas oughta' be polite and move outta his way. And anyway, it's not like he enjoyed standing so close to Cas or anything….

'Dean… for a brief moment I thought you were going to kiss me, and…. now I am disappointed.' Cas observes; Sam looks up, alarmed at the tone of the conversation.

'Listen, guys, I'd love to find out what Cas doesn't remember, but I really, really, really, don't want a blow by blow of this.' Sam shakes his head and goes back to typing on his laptop. Dean smirks at Cas.

'Disappointed, huh?'

Cas nods meekly, glancing down at Dean's full mouth. He gulps audibly and turns his gaze resolutely forward. Cas had an overwhelming desire to have Dean stroke his wings, and kiss him and stand so close to him. He liked standing close to Dean. Dean smelled so good… And in a flash, the memory came back to him. Cas gasps and grabs a fistful of Dean's shirt. Dean looks up, surprised.

'Eh, careful there, tiger.'

'Dean, I remember! I remember, Dean! I thought about how good you smell, and the memory came back.'

Sam groans from the sofa.

'Really guys? Am I, like, in Hell again?' Sam stops typing on his laptop, and begins searching his pockets. 'Where are my earbuds?'

Dean looks over at Cas, puts his hand over Cas's where it grips his shirt. He wants Cas to rip the shirt off and…. Nope, ain't goin' there….

'I smell good, huh?' Dean quips, all male bravado covering up the fact that he feels profoundly moved by Cas right now. Cas looks down, bashful. He can feel Dean's soul, he can feel how content Dean is to stand close to him, to be with him.

'Yes, Dean. I remember.' Cas looks up through hooded eyes, his face downcast still. 'Thank you, Dean. I… I don't think I've ever shared that with anyone before.' Cas looks down again, his hand flattened against Dean's chest. 'I would do anything for you, Dean.'

Sam shoots up from the sofa again, laptop in hand.

'And that's my cue. I am so outta' here. Call me when you're smokin' ciggies afterwards, guys.' Sam leaves the hotel room, mumbling about sex crazed angels.

'You really shouldn't say that unless you mean it, Cas.' Dean's eyes are heavy, and he struggles to maintain his composure. It's not like he feels like being close to Cas right now…

Cas raises his head from Dean's neck and looks Dean in the eyes. He pulls Dean by the shirt, pressing himself between Dean and counter, so Dean's whole body is flush with his. Their faces aren't even inches apart, and Cas seems mesmerized by Dean's mouth. Tentatively, he brushes his lips against Deans. Dean grabs the back of Cas's neck and kisses him back briefly and fiercely before pulling away. What the hell was he doing, kissing Cas? What was wrong with him? He just wanted to eat his pie in peace, really. He didn't want to kiss Cas, or be close to him. Nope, not at all.

'What are you doin' to me, Cas?' Dean mutters quietly. He rests his forehead against the cabinet front next to Cas's head. His hands have a mind of their own, finding their way under Cas's shirt, tracing the many scars. What did it take to leave a scar on an angel? They healed themselves didn't they? 'Where did you get these scars, Cas? Can't you heal yourself?' Cas puts his arms around Dean, pulling him closer, if that were possible.

'I…. I do not know, Dean.'

'What in Heaven's name does it take to scar an angel that badly?' Dean mumbles to himself, lifting his head from its rest against the cabinet front. 'Cas, what the hell have they done to you?' Cas looks pale and forlorn.

'I do not know, Dean. I do not know.'

'Don't leave, Cas. Please?' Dean whispers, almost to himself.

'I do not want to leave, Dean.'

'Why do you, then?' Dean asks, suddenly exasperated.

'I have responsibilities, Dean.'

Dean rolls his eyes.

'What about us, Cas? Aren't we important?' Dean glances over at Cas, suddenly busy scraping the last piece of pie out of the pan. It didn't matter one little bit to him whether or not he was important to Cas. Nope, not one little bit. Cas cups Dean's chin in his hand and gently turns his face towards him. A normally contrary Dean allows this because he doesn't want to admit he likes it when Cas touches him.

'You are the most important person to me, Dean. But I cannot evade my responsibilities. I am sorry.'

Dean shrugs, twisting his face out of Cas's grasp. There were too many hopeless nights when he prayed – not with tears, it was dry eye! – and Cas never showed up.

'Why don't you come when I call you, Cas?' Cas's face is incredulous.

'Dean, I come every time you call! I have come to you in the midst of battle, Dean!' Cas's voice is nearly a shout. Dean quietly shakes his head.

'No, Cas. Half the time you never come. Half the time I never know if you even hear me.' Dean's voice is a whisper, reluctant. He really doesn't like to talk about this; too much like begging to say how much he needs Cas. But if he's going to get Sammy through this, he needs Cas. Cas's face is devastated when Dean looks up; Dean is surprised.

'Dean, I….' Cas looks forward into some mysterious middle distance. 'Dean, I know this is no excuse, but do you realize that when another angel with more power and authority than me summons me, I go whether I want to or not?' Cas looks down, ashamed. 'I am not supposed to talk about such things with humans.' Cas looks over at Dean, reluctant to see his face. Dean's face is surprised. 'And I cannot leave unless that angel either allows it, or I create enough of a distraction to escape.' Dean shakes his head.

'Listen to yourself, Cas. You sound like a prisoner, not a soldier.' Cas's shoulders sag a little in relief. He had been afraid that Dean would not understand. He looks over at Dean, relief clear on his face.

'I am so glad you understa-'

In a blink, Cas is gone.


	3. Chapter 3: Purpose and Vision

**Forewarned, there is explicit M/M oral sex in this chapter, and you have my apologies if I messed it up. Dean is definitely a bottom, even though he's not gay. (wink, wink). Oh, and there might be a little accidental voyeurism, but only because the boys got a little carried away and forgot about poor Sam…. who actually slept through the whole thing anyway.**

Castiel awoke strapped in a chair, slightly reclined; the room he was in was spare and cold, all glass and metal. His heart sank a little when he realized where he was – Naomi's 'Lab'. What could Naomi possibly want now? Hadn't she taken enough of his memories already? And how could he recognize Naomi's Lab and not remember anything else? Castiel wasn't even sure who he was anymore, whether God had actually died – surely his Father wouldn't just let all this stuff happen willy nilly. And how did he know a phrase like that?

 _'_ _Cas, are you there? It's Dean again.'_

Castiel looked around, trying to identify the voice he heard in his head. There was the background static of Angel Radio, then there was a rough male voice, different from all the rest. Something about it was extremely familiar and comforting… Castiel realized it felt like home to hear this voice in his head.

 _'_ _Cas, I'm really worried about you. You zapped out mid-sentence, and that ain't like you, Cas. I think those angels are dickin' around in your head again, Cas, and I just ain't cool with that. You've done so much for us Cas…'_

Here the voice in his head cascaded with emotion and memories, each hitting him like an Angel Blade to the heart. Two brothers, both pivotal in the fight against…. what? Monsters? Darkness? Lucifer? Dean's memories bombarded him, all the prayers he'd sent to Cas, all the times they'd drank together and ridden around together, eating up the miles and the hours in quiet companionship. Over and over again he saw himself, fighting beside them, watching them eat, watching Dean sleep. Why did he watch Dean sleep? Was Dean the Righteous Man? What had Naomi done? How could he not remember any of this?

 _'_ _I'm sorry, Cas, but you gotta' remember it all, not just the cozy parts. This Naomi ain't doin' you any favors. This is gonna' hurt, Cas, I'm sorry.'_

Castiel wondered briefly what Dean could possibly be referring to when the memory hit him. He was beating the living daylights out of Dean; he saw the memory from Dean's perspective, feeling Dean's concern and confusion at his actions. His own face was impassive, angelically implacable and immovable. He heard Dean's pleas, saw his tortured face, and knew that he had done that at Naomi's command. Dean was pleading with him, but not pleading for his own life – Dean was telling him that this behavior wasn't who he was. How could Dean know who he was, and Castiel himself couldn't?

By the time Castiel watched himself drop the Angel Blade, tears were running down his face, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean and telling him how very sorry he was. He tried to blink out, but it didn't work. Castiel looked down and realized the straps were warded against him.

He was determined to get free, though he had no idea how much time he had until Naomi got back. Once Naomi got back, she would start in again, and he would forget Dean again. It was all starting to come back to him now, and all he could think about was getting back to Dean. Dean had warned him about Naomi, and said that he would fight Naomi if he was there, so Castiel focused with renewed attention on freeing himself from the warded cuffs.

Naomi came back just as Castiel worked his way free of the cuffs and stood up. He wasn't sure what was powering him, but Dean was the Righteous Man, and he opposed Naomi's tactics. And anyway, Castiel figured if his Father didn't approve, He wouldn't have brought him back so quickly those other times, even if they were considered 'punishment resurrections' by the other angels. His Father had always told the humans that he 'chastised those whom He loved,' and though it seemed a little backwards to Castiel, he clung fiercely to it now. Father could have left him in The Empty like the others, but He hadn't. And every time he had come back, he found he had more power and authority than the last time. Time and again his Father had brought him back, for the Winchester brothers.

'Castiel, I'm not letting you leave.' Naomi stated implacably, her stance firm and calm as always.

'I'm not asking for your permission, Naomi.' Castiel replied, swinging his hand out and using his Grace to send Naomi flying backwards through the doorway. 'I'm leaving, Naomi. You will never take my memories again, and you will not interfere with Dean or his brother.'

With that, Castiel blinked himself out of Naomi's office, zeroing in on Dean's prayer. He found himself back in the familiar hotel room, standing between two beds. Dean was sitting on the far edge of a bed in front of him; his brother Sam slept peacefully in the other bed behind him. Dean sat facing away from Sam, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands knit together and supporting his bowed head.

No words came from his mouth, but Castiel could hear his thoughts clearly, feel the emotions behind them. Dean was profoundly distraught, nearly frantic with worry actually, though none of it showed in his outward appearance. Castiel was surprised and moved to realize that Dean's worry was all for him.

 _'_ _Cas, I really hope you can hear me. I can't do this without you, man. You've gotta' fight that Naomi bitch, she's hurtin' you, Cas, and I don't like it. I don't like it 'cause I can't go up there and fight her myself.'_

Dean's internal voice crackled with emotion on these last words, failure and the beginnings of hopelessness leaking from him. Castiel couldn't help himself. He rushed forward, making a wide circle around the end of the bed to stand in front of Dean. Surprising Dean Winchester could be deadly, even for him. He crouched in front of Dean, and Dean looked up from his prayers, his eyes swimming with unshed tears.

'Dean, I'm here. I did it, Dean. I freed myself from the warded cuffs on the chair in Naomi's Lab and blinked out even though Naomi didn't want me to.' Castiel felt foolish, like a little kid telling his crush about what he'd done.

Dean's face was skeptical.

'Cas? Is that really you, or am I hallucinating again?'

Castiel reached out cupped Dean's face in both his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. He loved the feel of Dean's stubble under his palm. Dean reached up and grasped him by the wrists – not to pull his hands away, but to hold on, to make sure it was real. Both Winchester brothers were very touch oriented – with all the mental battles they faced, it was no wonder. Touch was their way of grounding themselves in the present moment. Castiel quietly obliged, allowing Dean to hang on to his wrists, his palms still cupping Dean's face.

'I'm here, Dean.'

Castiel spoke quietly, his wings folding forward to loosely embrace Dean. It was like a magic ward was lifted from Dean. The tears started spilling down his face, and his mouth contorted in a silent scream of anguish and anger and pain. No sound came out, no sound at all, even though his body was wracked over and over with huge, silent, wrenching sobs.

Dean's tears and anguish were eerily silent – long years of habit, long years of hiding his fear and anguish from his little brother was one more way of protecting him. Dean never relaxed his grip on Cas's wrists through all of this. Dean's grip was like a lifeline he clung to, tightening so much at times that Castiel knew if he were human his wrists would have shattered. Castiel let the tears wash over his hands, even though they burned tiny silver trails on his skin.

Dean finally let go of Cas's wrists, and Castiel took this as a sign that he could let go of Dean as he seemed to come back to himself. Castiel sat back a little as Dean used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. He was on the verge of trying to reassure Dean about his vulnerable moment when Dean stood up abruptly, his crotch right in Cas's face. He leered down at Cas, male bravado again covering Dean's feelings of vulnerability.

'What, cat got your tongue, Cas?'

Castiel shook his head wearily at Dean's distraction tactic. He stood slowly, not moving even an inch away from Dean. As he rose to his feet, his body brushed heavily against Dean's, forcing Dean to brace himself and Cas's wings instinctively curled around behind him to bolster him.

Castiel looked Dean in the eye for a long moment, his wings still curled tightly around both of them, pushing Dean into him. Castiel couldn't help it, he cared so much about Dean that it hurt – it was a deep, aching need that clawed at him from the inside, like a weakened Leviathan. He took in Dean's green eyes – still a little red from crying, and this stirred things inside Castiel he still didn't completely understand. His gaze drifted down the hard, proud face to the full lips, just parted; Dean's breath was coming in short little pants, he didn't think Dean even realized it.

Dean couldn't look away from Cas's eyes…. God, why did You make his eyes so blue? Every time Dean looked up at the sky on a cloudless day, he thought of Cas's eyes, of Castiel watching over him silently. Castiel, sitting in that chair beside his bed every night, watching him sleep. Coming awake after another nightmare to Castiel quietly holding him, mumbling Enochian until the nightmare left him and he found sleep again.

It wasn't sex, it was far more profound than that; it was safety. Cas was a safe place, a refuge. Dean unconsciously relaxed so that the pressure of Cas's wings was all that was keeping him upright. Cas's wings tightened even further around Dean, feathered arms holding him close and safe.

Slowly, Castiel leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Dean's; feathery light, a ghost of a touch, barely there. It felt like fire blazed through his body and soul though, burning some parts of his host body hotter than others. Dean latched on to his kiss like a drowning man, his hands gripping Cas's shirt front. Cas's hands again cupped Dean's face, his smooth palms brushing the rough stubble on Dean's chin. The tips of his fingers worked through the back of Dean's hair.

Cas's wings were like a feathery steel wall behind Dean. Cas's body by contrast held give here and there. Dean felt his hands drift down to Cas's crotch, working through the material of his slacks to massage the rapidly growing bulge he felt. Cas's human vessel was certainly… not lacking in proportional endowments, Dean thought, then stifled a school girl giggle. What the heck did it matter to him what Cas's host body had?

His strong fingers (thank you hours of working on Baby…) massaged Castiel deftly through the material, and in return he felt a gratifying (though also slightly terrifying) gasp from the angel. Cas's hands worked their way through Dean's hair as he growled incoherently in Enochian under his breath.

Dean heard a command mumbled in Enochian, followed by Cas shoving his head downward. Holy Cow! Cas wanted him to…. well, that was actually okay, and a little freaky, because he really wanted to, anyway… And no, it didn't mean he was gay, he wasn't gay, dammit….

Dean mumbled something about the things he was willing to do for gay angels who had a crush on him as he ripped Cas's shirt open, kissing down his scarred chest and stomach while feverishly unbuckling Cas's belt. When Dean was finally able to work Cas's slacks loose and they pooled around his ankles – he couldn't believe the damn angel went commando! God did he not know about zippers, for crap's sake?! – Cas's rather generous endowment bobbed forward and Dean couldn't help a gasp.

'Well holy fuck, Cas, there ain't no way I can swallow all that, ya damn horse,' he mumbled. 'You're gonna have to settle for a hand job, cause ain't no way that's fittin' anywhere…'

He couldn't help his curiousity, though, and telling himself Cas needed a little lube anyway, he knelt in front of Cas, and licked Cas from stem to stern first. Cas inhaled deeply and fisted his hand in Dean's hair, mumbling more commands in Enochian that Dean had no way of understanding…

Gingerly, he cupped Cas's balls in one hand and took Cas's head in his mouth and sucked a little, and was rewarded with a tightened grip on his hair and more Enochian. He swirled his tongue around the head a little and Cas's hips started pumping before he seemed to catch himself. His tone was apologetic, even if Dean still didn't understand Enochian.

Dean's other hand took a firm grip on the shaft and began a slow, leisurely pumping action. He could only comfortably fit the head in his mouth, and as he swirled his tongue around it, he felt Cas's fingers gently exploring his jawline, feeling the places where he and Dean melted together, all the while mumbling reverently in Enochian.

Dean's rhythm picked up speed and soon he could feel Cas's head begin to swell a little and knew Cas was close to orgasm. He gently released Cas's balls and moved his hand up to put his fingers on Cas's lips as a reminder to be silent. Dean felt Cas's hands tighten in his hair as he felt the warm saltiness start to jet down the back of his throat. Dean felt rather than heard Cas's rumbling moan.

Before he even had a chance to think, Cas hauled him up by the hair, their bodies brushing as they stood close. Cas's wings braced Dean's back as Cas gripped him by the shoulders and leaned into him, smelling him. Cas sniffed and licked up Dean's neck to his jawline. He paused and looked over at Dean, his gaze predatory and distinctly not angelic. Dean felt his knees go watery and his dick harden painfully as Cas leered at him.

'You smell like me, Dean.'

Cas used one hand to grab the back of Dean's head and pull him in for a kiss. Cas's kiss was knee-knockingly aggressive, and when he growled into Dean's mouth Dean thought he would come right there. Cas paused his kissing exploration of Dean's mouth to mumble into it…

'You taste like me, Dean.'

Cas leaned down and began kissing, biting, and sucking on Dean's chest, a point not too far away from the anti-possession tattoo, in fact. Dean realized Cas was giving him a hickey, that Cas was marking him. Dean felt himself go weak in the knees again at this thought – what was he, some stupid teenage girl now? Cas's arms were sure, though, and Cas kept him stable, braced against his wings. Dean couldn't stand up on his own now if he needed to.

'Jesus fuck Cas, what the hell are you doin' to me?'

Cas's left hand rose up and covered Dean's mouth, pressing his head back against the wings. Dean didn't think he could possibly get any harder, and now he was starting to leak, like a boy with his first porno mag. Why did that predatory look in Cas's eyes get him so damn hot? Why did he feel like going along with whatever the hell Cas came up with?

Castiel finished sucking a hickey on Dean's chest, marking him, and briefly surveyed his handiwork, looking over at Dean again. Dean was utterly compliant in his arms – his soul was as still and content as he'd ever felt it. His eyes were soft and vulnerable – he could feel Dean's submission in his bones. It beggared all possible belief, but there it was. Dean would fight like the nine hells to deny this moment hereafter, but Castiel knew now.

Castiel surprised Dean by reaching his right hand into Dean's boxers and taking firm hold of what he found there. The feel of Cas's hand on him nearly sent Dean over the edge, but Cas barely shook his head. Cas didn't want him to come yet. What the hell? Since when was it up to Cas?

Dean felt Cas's gaze on him and looked into his blue eyes. Yep. He was officially a goner. Whatever Cas wanted to do, he knew he'd pony up for it without hesitation. Oh, sure he'd have to make his objections sound good so nobody figured out how whipped he was…

Cas removed his hand from Dean's mouth and replaced it with his own mouth, kissing him gently and sweetly. Dean realized he could kiss Cas forever. Well, on second thought maybe objections were overrated sometimes. Cas broke off the kiss and leaned forward to whisper in Dean's ear, his right hand still stroking Dean.

'You. Belong. To. Me.' Cas whispered, and Dean came apart in his arms.

Sam moaned a little in his sleep, rolling over.

'Dean, tell your girlfriend to be a little quieter, will ya',' he mumbled in his sleep. His words fell away to incoherent mutters as he fell back asleep.

Dean and Castiel looked at each other a moment, then collapsed side by side on the bed, laughing softly.


	4. Chapter 4: Learning Curve, Part One

**Learning Curve, Part One**

 **In this chapter, djinn have the ability to mimic the appearance of others - whether they can physically change their shape, or induce hallucinations in those around them I haven't clarified. I'm also trying to avoid too many fight scene descriptions, because I suck at them, so if you see some inconsistencies, or have any ideas about how an action scene might play better, please let me know. I'm also using the Bunker for the first time, so please let me know if I've got Sam, Dean, & Castiel going the wrong direction, LOL. As usual, I don't own Supernatural or any of the amazing characters… sigh. **

_Castiel flung Dean to the mat for the umpteenth time that day. He straddled Dean, trapping his legs firmly between his own, and pinning his arms above his head. Dean's face was a mask of male bravado as he leered up at Castiel, but his soul was quiet as was usual when they were in close proximity._

 _'_ _Dean, why do you insist on going through this? I have been fighting for longer than your species has inhabited the earth. Many of the fighting forms you are familiar with came from my garrison.'_

 _'_ _You may know it, Cas, but I don't know it. And I gotta' know whether or not I can count on you in a pinch.' Dean cocked an eyebrow, and Castiel huffed._

 _'_ _I believe I have already proven that many times over, Dean, even before you set up these little 'training days'.'_

 _'_ _And you're used to fightin' with angel strength, Cas. What are you gonna' do when ya ain't got no juice, huh Cas?'_

 _Castiel let go of Dean and hopped up, pulling Dean up with him and moving him smoothly against the wall of the Bunker's spare room before Dean could react. He pushed his entire body up against Dean, again pinning Dean's arms over his head. Castiel leaned in close, his face not even an inch away from Dean's. Dean's breath was coming in short gasps again, and his pupils were blown despite the adequate light in the room. Castiel's lips were so close to Dean's he could feel the short puffs of breath over his lips._

 _'_ _I haven't had to use angel strength for any of this, Dean. I've been running solely off of this body's physical strength and my own knowledge.' Castiel brushed his lips against Dean's, so lightly it almost wasn't a touch. Dean stopped breathing. 'I could have killed you many times over, Dean.' Castiel mumbled into Dean's lips as he secured both Dean's hand in a one-handed grip with his left hand and let his right hand slide down Dean's side to cup his hip. His long fingers moved around to cup Dean's ass, and squeezed. Dean gasped, breathing again. He jerked Dean's hips into his own, pressing himself against Dean demandingly._

 _'_ _What do you want, Dean?' Castiel whispered into Dean's lips. 'What do you want?'_

Sam snapped his fingers at Dean.

'Dean, Earth to Dean, what did you want?' Sam repeated for the thousandth time. God, what was up with his brother now? All he ever seemed to do was sit and stare into space, when he should be working out what kind of monsters they were up against, and how they could beat them.

Dean shook his head and lowered it into his arms on the table. They had retreated to the Bunker, and Dean was seated at one of the main tables in the Vault. The table was covered in scattered papers and various items from their travels. He was glad for the table at the moment. He hadn't woke up with wood this bad since he was…. well, since he was twelve or so. God, this was embarrassing. Daydreaming about Cas when he should be focused on their current job.

He lifted his head and stared straight ahead. He was afraid that if he looked Sam in the eye, Sammy would be able to see his thoughts. And that would be humiliating; having Sammy see him go all moon-eyed over some stupid angel. Dean huffed.

'I'm gonna need you to run into town and see if the library has anything on djinn, Sammy. I know our library is probably better, but we really need to bone up on some of these guys. Maybe the public library will have different information than what we've seen.'

'So you think we're up against djinn again, Dean? We know how to beat them, we've done it before.'

Dean shook his head, irritated. He needed Sammy out of the Bunker. He needed to talk to Cas; he needed Cas. Dean shook his head again. He didn't like needing people, it felt too helpless.

'I know that, Sammy. But we need to keep expanding our knowledge base. There might be somethin' out there we haven't figured out yet, okay? And you're better at research than I am.' Dean smiled up at Sammy. 'Somethin' about how your mind works just puts the right information together in ways it wouldn't occur to me, that's all.' Sammy smiled at this obvious fiction and knocked his knuckles on the tabletop.

'Okay, Dean, if you say so.'

Sammy turned grabbed the Impala keys from a nearby table, as well as his backpack with its laptop from a chair. He jogged easily up the stairs and made his way towards the front entry area.

'If you see Cas, tell him I said hi.' Sammy grinned knowingly and left.

 _Well, shit_ , Dean thought. He really thought he'd been cool enough to hide things.

'Shit.' Dean muttered.

'Did you call?' Castiel asked; between one breath and the next he was standing behind Dean's chair, his hands firmly on Dean's shoulders. Dean instinctively reached up and grabbed Cas's forearms. Was it him, or did they feel differently than they had in his daydream?

'Are you really here this time?' Dean whispered.

'Yes, Dean, I am really here.' Castiel grabbed a fistful of Dean's short hair and pulled Dean's head back, kissing him thoroughly. Abruptly, Dean broke off the kiss and pulled Castiel off balance, flipping Castiel over his shoulder and onto his back on the tabletop. Papers scattered everywhere, and Dean pulled a knife from who knew where and put it against Castiel's throat.

'You ain't Cas, you son of a bitch,' Dean growled. NotCas smirked.

'You got that from one li'l ole kiss? Well, don't that tell all?' NotCas taunted, his voice holding an unfamiliar Southern twang as he did a shoulder stand on the tabletop to wrap his legs around Dean's shoulders and throw him off balance before hopping lightly from the table.

The poison from the djinn's kiss began to take effect, and instead of fighting NotCas, Dean slid to the floor, arms scrabbling uselessly at the papers on the tabletop on the way down. Dean's knife clattered to the floor, and he was unconscious by the time his head hit the floor. The djinn picked him up easily with one hand, tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, easily navigating the stairs back to the Bunker's front entryway.

It was a good thing he'd decided to drive into town and approach the Bunker as Castiel – he figured at the very least, the Winchester boys would have facial recognition software in the security cameras by now. He smiled to himself – it was always nice to have confirmation that his mimic skills were so flawless.

Making his way quickly out the front door, NotCas dumped Dean in the back seat, started the car, and sped down the driveway. He knew he didn't have much time to get out of there before the angel showed up, no doubt called here by Dean's lustful thoughts.

The djinn quirked a malicious smile at that thought as he sped away. He had no worries about Dean coming around anytime soon. He'd packed extra juice into the poison in his saliva with that kiss, altering the potency and chemical makeup just to make sure Dean stayed down for the count and lost in his pretty little dreams of Castiel. The djinn twisted another malicious smile and gunned the engine as he rounded a turn; in fact, Dean may never wake up again.

As the djinn was racing down the road with Dean, Castiel blinked in to the Vault, right behind the now upended chair Dean had sat in. He took in the scattered papers, the knife on the floor, and the upended chair. He blinked into the entranceway, looked around, and took a deep breath. Castiel then blinked back to Dean's upended chair at the table in the Vault, and took another deep breath. The faint scent of djinn was there in both places, and a new variant of djinn poison still lingered.

Castiel cursed in Enochian. The djinn had altered the poison's makeup, increasing the potency as well as the sedative and hallucinatory side effects. Enochian curses filled the air again as he blinked quickly through the Bunker, knowing he would not find Dean. When he could not even find Sam's ever present backpack, or the Impala keys, or the Impala out front, Castiel hauled out his cell phone.

'Yeah?'

'Sam, we have a problem.'

'What kind of problem? Where's Dean?'

'Sam, Dean is the problem.'

'When is Dean not the problem, Cas?'

'Dean is gone, the Vault is a mess, and I smell djinn.'

'Well, shit…. I'm on my way back home. Dean sent me to do homework at the library, and I actually think I may have found something. See what you can find on the camera feed until I get there. Dean had them installed everywhere a while back; I thought he was being a little paranoid, but it looks like it'll come in handy. I'll be there as soon as I can.'

Castiel ended the call, pocketed his cell phone, and headed for the Control Room. Once there, it took him a few minutes to find the relevant camera and wind back the footage. It looked like he'd only missed Dean by a quarter of an hour at the most. Castiel cursed in Enochian again and watched the footage. It looked as though Cas/djinn had blinked in behind Dean, kissed him, and then Dean had freaked out, flipping Cas/djinn over his shoulder onto the tabletop before the poison finally took effect. Cas smiled to himself; Dean knew his kiss. Why did that make him feel warm inside? The footage tracked the Cas/djinn as he slung Dean over his shoulder like so much meat and strode right up the stairs and out the front door. Castiel cursed again – the djinn had excellent mimic skills to be able to fool the facial recognition features of the security programs.

Castiel was able to find footage of the front drive that showed a clear picture of the djinn's vehicle, and even the tag number. Castiel grimaced; undoubtedly the tags would go to a stolen vehicle, and the vehicle that now showed up on the footage would probably be ditched somewhere fairly soon. Castiel wasn't even sure if they would stay local or not. His best guess was that they would not; Lebanon, Kansas, was a very small community, outsiders would stand out like a sore thumb around here. However, the djinn's ability to mimic others meant that they might be able to pass as locals for awhile. Unfortunately, Lebanon was also centrally located to two Interstates and several favorably sized communities not too far away. Castiel shook his head, irritated. How were they going to track Dean and the djinn?

Knowing that djinn tended to choose abandoned buildings for their nesting sites didn't always make things easier. In the Midwestern United States, defunct economies meant that entire parts of towns could be abandoned. Castiel found a spare computer in the Control Room and went to work narrowing down possible djinn nesting sites in the area. It was a good thing they had all decided to track down the locations of known djinn nests after their last encounter.


	5. Chapter 5: Learning Curve, Part Two

**Learning Curve, Part Two**

 **I'm trying to avoid too many fight scene descriptions, because I suck at them, so if you see some discrepancies, or have any ideas about how an action scene might play better, please let me know. There is a description of wing!kink and M/M sex in here, so forewarned. Sorry it's not better, let me know if you have ideas. Thanks!**

 _Dean's face dripped sweat, and it ran in runnels down the center of his bare back. It was hot in the spare room they used as a gym, but Dean had refused to put AC in. He wasn't a wimp. It didn't help, though, that Castiel was unfazed by the heat. Despite the fact that he wasn't sweating, he too had removed his shirt. His skin glistened a little, almost glittered in places, accentuating hard muscle tones and lean movements. Dean shook his head. He was really going soft in the head for Cas, thinking like that._

 _Cas and Dean circled each other on the mat. By this time they had tried many different fighting forms- Krav Maga, various martial arts forms, American Collegiate Wrestling, Greco-Roman Wrestling. Cas had proved efficient in all forms, which Dean supposed made sense. His garrison was tasked with observing humanity- it stood to reason that they would all be proficient fighters, unlike most angels. Dean didn't know whether to feel betrayed or impressed that Cas had so successfully downplayed his ability._

 _Cas moved first, surprising Dean out of his reverie. His moves were so fast, Dean swore Cas was using his angel powers, if he didn't also know Cas would never cheat. Before he knew it, he was on his back with Cas straddling his chest, his arms pinned to his side. Cas's wings fanned out, their tips just brushing either wall of the spare room. Gently they fanned back and forth, creating a small breeze. The breeze felt wonderful to Dean._

 _'_ _I win. Again.' Cas growled, leaning forward and placing both hands on the floor on either side of Dean's head. 'Do you even_ _wanna'_ _win, Dean?'_

 _Cas leaned in, his face inches away from Dean's. Dean felt glad he'd been able to escape the djinn a few days ago, that had been a close call. But he couldn't seem to remember how he'd done it. Didn't that mean he might still be- abruptly, Cas leaned in and kissed him, soul searing and demanding. Dean lost his train of thought._

 _'_ _Less thought. More action,' Cas growled again, his breath huffing warm over Dean's lips. 'You owe me again, Dean. How are you gonna pay up this time?'_

 _Dean leered up at Cas._

 _'_ _Oh, I can think of one or two things you might like.'_

 _Dean spread his hands over Cas's bare chest and up to his wing, caressing the leading edge of Castiel's wing. Cas froze and took a deep breath. Dean could feel Cas's body responding to the stimulation. Dean grinned; it was the weirdest thing to him that Cas was so turned on by having his wings stroked. Dean continued to stroke Cas's wing, unable to take his eyes off the mesmerizing feathers – the color was amazing. Such a beautiful midnight blue, fading into black in most places. Cas had told him once the black came from flying down into Hell to rescue him. Dean knew he should feel bad, but all he could think was that the color looked so amazingly beautiful, especially on Cas._

 _'_ _You need a minute to jet outta here, Cas, like last time?'_

 _Cas's reply was slow in coming. His eyes were closed, and he was on all fours above Dean. Slowly he lowered himself so he was stretched out over Dean, but still supporting his own weight. Dean felt himself respond to Cas's closeness, like he always did. Damn angel and his inability to understand personal space._

 _'_ _No, Dean, I can handle it,' Cas growled in his ear, and Dean felt shivers run up and down his spine. He stopped for a moment, enjoying Cas's closeness, Cas's breath in his ear, coming in short pants now. He could tell exactly how excited Cas was, and it was making him hard, to be honest._

 _'_ _Dean, don't stop, please,' Cas's growl was a little pleading, and Dean resumed his caressing of Cas's wing. Cas lifted himself a little and began to frantically undo his pants, freeing himself. Dean managed to one-hand his own pants, but since he was in sweats, all he had to do was lift his ass off the floor and pull his sweats down a little. His cock rubbed against Cas's and they both forgot to breathe for a minute. Seeing Cas so turned on really got to Dean in ways he didn't really want to understand. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he'd do anything to-_

 _'_ _Dean!' Cas cried out as he came, warmth spurting over Dean's abdomen and up to his chest. Dean found himself not far behind. It seemed that when it came to Cas, he was more like a schoolboy than the experienced man he was, a little too quick to come himself. His hand fisted around the leading edge of Cas's wing as he came, quietly now. He wondered idly why it seemed to take so much out of him now. Every time Cas made him come, it felt like a little more of his life force leaked out. The irony of that made him chuckle._

 _'_ _You're killin' me, Cas,' Dean mumbled, unable to stay awake now._

 _What was wrong with him? Usually getting his rocks off left him feeling some weird combination of calm and jazzed; why did it feel like every time he came lately, he died a little? Cas lifted him up gently and blinked him to his bedroom, lying beside him on the small twin bed. He felt rather than saw Cas's smile._

 _'_ _It's a good way to go, though, don't ya' think?' Dean smiled at this and drifted away, idly wondering why Cas seemed to be experimenting with a soft Southern accent at times…_

'Hey, Cas, havin' any luck?' Sam and Castiel were in the Control Room at the Bunker, researching local djinn populations, and waiting on word through the police scanners about the stolen vehicle they'd gotten off the video of the front drive.

'There are several possible locations we can investigate.' Castiel replied, still focused on his research on the computer. As he worked on the computer, part of his mind was working through the chemical combinations in the poison he'd smelled. He was mentally working through possible antidotes, but it was difficult to do both at once.

'Sam, can you handle this research for now?' Sam looked up, surprised.

'Sure, Cas, what's up?'

'I've been mentally running through possible antidotes based on the chemicals I smelled in the lingering poison scent, but it would be quicker if I could devote my entire mind to the task, and have tools to test possible antidotes with.'

Sam's jaw literally dropped.

'Wow, Cas, I had no idea you could do that. Sure, no problem. Just let me know what you need if you can't find it.'

Sam just watched, stunned still, as Castiel got up and left the Control Room, heading for what passed as the Bunker's little-used laboratory. Curiousity got the better of him, and Sam soon followed, watching as Cas made his way around the lab, cataloging ingredients and tools. At some point Cas found a pad and pen, and began writing down complex formulas in Enochian.

'Wow, Cas, I had no idea… I mean… It makes sense, I guess…'

Cas didn't look up from his writing.

'Are humans really not able to parse smells into individual chemical formulae?'

'Um, no Cas, we're not. We can barely smell anything at all, and we can barely tell the basic identity of what we smell, at that.' Cas looked up from his writing for a moment.

'That's not surprising, I guess. I'll never understand why Father limited your senses and dimensional awareness so greatly when he made you.' Cas refocused his attention on his writing. 'Even dogs can tell the chemical makeup of what they smell, most animals can.'

'I had no idea, Cas. I had no idea that animals were so much smarter than us.'

Cas looked up again at this.

'Oh, they are not quantifiably 'smarter' – they may have the information, but it's just data, it's just how they perceive the world. They lack the intelligence to 'put it all together' as you say.' Cas flicked a brief smile at Sam, then resumed his calculations. Sam rapped his knuckles on the counter and pushed away from the counter, towards the door.

'Right. Well, I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything.'

Cas didn't give any indication of hearing him, and seemed so focused on his task that Sam didn't want to disturb him anymore, so he left quietly, returning to his task at the computer in the Control Room.

It wasn't long before the police scanner squawked. The authorities in Concordia were reporting finding a vehicle with stolen tags, matching the description of the vehicle other authorities in Lebanon were keeping an eye out for. Sam reluctantly found Cas in the lab again. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door jamb before entering.

'Um, Cas?'

'Yes, Sam?' Cas was deeply absorbed in his calculations, and didn't bother to look up.

'Um, that stolen vehicle report we've been waiting on came over the police scanner. They found it on the north side of Concordia. I thought it would be best if you blinked over there, since you can smell any traces of them, maybe tell us what direction they headed in? I'll get the Impala ready to go, and meet you there, or you can find me on the way.' Cas finished an equation and looked up.

'Yes, that makes imminent sense, Sam. It shouldn't take long for me to have a look around, see what we can find. Hopefully they haven't moved the vehicle yet. I'll find the Impala when I'm done.'

With that, Cas blinked out of the lab, and Sam went to find his backpack and the Impala keys.

Thanks to those who have managed to like my fanfiction! :-) I've been getting ToS reminders, so I'm moving over to Archive of Our Own. Look for these and further stories and chapters under 'QuietWriter48' as soon as I figure things out!


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